A few months ago I went to a Rolling Stone event where The Airborne Toxic Event put on a comped concert for the media poverty elite. I had lady tickles all over because the group sang my favorite song at the time, "Sometime After Midnight," which concequently was the only song I actually knew. Let me preface this story with this: To me, all musician types look the same; blindingly sexy and "unconventional." So when I thought I was bumming a cig off the lead singer of the main act I couldn't be blamed.
"Your songs are the soundtrack to my life," I told the 5'3 brunette Kate Gosselin head. He was so overly floored that I actually thought to myself, 'wow this loser doesn't deserve his band-status.' After that, he offered me his entire pack and probably would have serviced Star Jones if I asked him to. So there I was, with my "I'm with the band" tude and bummed cigarettes looking for other band members to make me feel even more entitled. I ran into another one, and again shot him my line. "Sorry," he said, "that's pretty sad." Fail. It would've been fine if the lap dog behind me didn't pipe up "Um. We're not in the same band." So, in effort to save my dignity I told them that their hair was stupid and that leather pants have been known to give grown men UTIs.
In truth, the soundtracks to our lives are crucial in evaluating the quality of our existence. Whenever something monumental happens I always wish my own personal DJ followed me around making the moments that much more memorable. I still remember when manfriend and I had our first kiss: Hammerjacks in Baltimore--Pour Some Sugar on Me blasted in the background while we poured beer on each other. Totally set the tone for our relationship.
But on to bigger and better things, I can only hope that a Queen medly plays when I have a baby. GOSH Quinn is so lucky! Her baby is going to come out a superstar with a welcome-to-the-world song like "Mama." She's already going to be the sexiest tot in the nursery with Puck and Quinster as birth parents. THEN Idina Mendzel adopts her? HO-Kay... The life lotery this girl just won is failproof. Puck on the other hand may not be so lucky; after taking a peek at Q's crowning chocha, he may never go within a mile radius of a vajayjay ever again.
Ahh Vocal Adrenaline. Now that's a Glee club I could really get on board with. Get swung around by beautiful men while Jesse takes all vocal responsibility and still win skyscraper trophies? Yeah, I'll take it. Plus, the coaching is clearly superior. I'll take Elfaba and Maureen over Briar-Patch head any day.
Disagree? Well I ask you this. What would you rather have as singles in the soundtrack of your life? Take me or Leave Me or whatever Matthew Morrison sang on Broadway? You chew on that. I'm going to go mourn a summer without Glee, my weekly morsel of eupheria. Hmm... I wonder what song that calls for. I'll start with the music from the finale...
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